"Pack your things, you're leaving tonight."
Well, good morning to you, too, I guess? But there's no point in greeting Miria—she's going to ignore me, anyway. My breakfast's far more interesting, too, so better keep my trap shut and munch on my toasts while I still can. I don't even bother lifting my eyes from my phone, scrolling through my friends' reels instead. Oh, man. Looks like the rave from yesterday went to shit. Glad I didn't go.
"Are you deaf?" Miria shrieks, piercing my eardrums. She has that kind of annoying, shrill voice that makes people instinctively shiver. It's almost as bad as screeching nails on a blackboard. Almost.
"No, not exactly." I reluctantly turn off my phone, flipping the screen down over the table. "But if you keep screaming, I might just become deaf by noon. You never know."
Oh, dear, she's already boiling. Not very patient today, eh? Alright, better not push my luck too much. My stepmother isn't the most tolerant person on earth, and I'd rather she doesn't throw the ashtray in my face this morning—the back of my head is still throbbing from yesterday's wine bottle.
"I can get my things packed in less than an hour." All of my stuff could be stuffed in one or two backpacks, and that's counting the space needed for my old, chunky laptop. "When do we leave, and where are we going?"
"We're leaving at five in the evening for the outskirts of the city. We have to be at the church at seven, and you're getting married at eight."
Wait, what?! Married? Who's getting married?!
"Sorry, what?"
"You heard me just fine," Miria snorts. My half-siblings, who are sitting across from me, also snort, the mocking glints in their eyes letting me guess they already knew. How surprising. And since my father has yet to say a word, he must have agreed to this shitshow beforehand.
Not like I'm expecting the guy to actually defend me. He never has.
"…Alright."
What else can I say? Throwing a tantrum won't get me anywhere, except maybe getting locked in the cabin. It's early autumn, but the nights are already getting chilly. I want to lie in a warm bed tonight, thank you.
"You don't need to prepare anything; I've taken care of everything for you, be it the paperwork or the wedding in itself. Your future husband will be waiting at the altar. It's going to be a small ceremony, but I expect you to behave."
"Husband?" I hear myself repeat.
Are my ears playing tricks on me now?
"Yes, husband."
I take a deep breath. You gotta be shitting—
"Do I have to remind you that I'm a man?"
"So?"
"…"
Maybe sleeping in the cabin isn't such a bad thing after all. 'Cause, seriously, this madwoman's hellbent on screwing me badly this time.
I'm not even into men, for fuck's sake!
***
As we arrive at the church, I'm still weighing the pros and cons of jumping out of the car, alongside the probability of surviving rolling on the highway at high speed. Unfortunately, before I can make up my mind, we're already here, at the place my stepmother has decided to sell me off.
And selling off is the right term. During the ride, she was kind enough to give me a rundown about this future husband of mine, and oh boy, do I regret not throwing a tantrum earlier.
First off, I'm not into men; I made that clear.
Second off, I don't have an age-gap fetish, either.
Third off, and the most important point, I'm not into other species.
I prefer my partners to be human, and preferably female, too. Not like my opinion has ever mattered to my stepmother, but still.
In the end, my family is marrying me off to a demon for the prosperity of the clan, and the fragile stability between the relationship of us, hunters, and them, supernatural beings. Because that's the right thing to do, according to her and whoever else has crammed that idea into that small brain of hers. I'm pretty sure she's not the one who thought about it; she knows too little about the political atmosphere between the different clans and supernatural beings.
The dunce's the kind to mix up werewolves with vampires, even though their fangs aren't alike at all. She lacks so much in the awareness department that she almost got us in big trouble once, managing to offend both heirs of these two clans at the same time.
It was a fun evening.
Anyway. That's not important right now.
To make a long story short, I'm the peace offering this time around, but the peace offering is currently about to blow up. I've barely entered the room Miria allocated me to change into 'proper' garments that I feel like breaking something. Maybe I should have been clearer when I told her I'm a man.
Gosh, do I need to show her my dangling bit for her to get it?!
"I'm not wearing that."
Not even over my dead body. I point at the white dress topped over a mannequin, and I'm pretty sure I've got this 'what the hell's wrong with you' look on my face as I glare at my stepmother. She's decided to come inside with me, probably to relish in my shocked face. I can hear my half-siblings snickering behind her. Oh, sure, enjoy the show. Assholes.
"Stop being a drama queen," she scoffs. "Get ready. I'll be waiting in the church. I trust you know the way?"
"Miria, I'd rather walk the aisle in my underwear than wear that thing."
"You wouldn't dare!"
With that, she turns on her heels and leaves. She knows I can't escape now, not with my not-very-human groom's clan around; running away means certain death for me. She's confident I won't disobey. I've been a relatively good boy all these years, after all.
I grit my teeth and stare at the wedding dress.
…Wouldn't dare, huh? Well, watch me.